Blindside
by ariescelestial
Summary: A confession of love from Uriko puts Kenji on the defensive, but she's determined not to be put off that easily.
1. Love Letters and Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:** This fic is dedicated to Tiger5913, who got me interested in this fandom. She also helped a lot by providing me with any info I needed. (Of course, any mistakes in this are mine alone.)

* * *

Alternate explanations for the Note:

1. It was a forgery.

Pluses: It wouldn't be a problem any longer.

Minuses: Appears to be Uriko's handwriting in every characteristic; beyond a student's capabilities, and too childish a ploy for someone truly skilled in forgery. Fails to explain why Uriko turned red when she saw the note.

2. It was a joke.

Pluses: It would be somewhat funny.

Minuses: Punchline has yet to be delivered. Too drawn-out for a joke by Uriko. Also fails to explain the sincere discomfort evinced by Uriko this morning.

3. It was a dare.

Pluses: Would explain embarrassment.

Minuses: the note's sentiments may still be sincere.

4. It was a mix-up.

Pluses: There are plenty of other "Kenji" the letter could have been meant for.

Minuses: There are not so many "Uriko". And Uriko knows very well which locker is mine.

Kenji rubbed his thumb over the nib of his mechanical pencil as he thought, absentmindedly slashing the graphite against his skin. There had to be a good explanation for this sudden development. Something he was missing, something...and then a horrible idea entered his mind and he quickly jotted it down:

5. Uriko has gone mad.

Pluses: Would explain EVERYTHING.

Minuses: Means her feelings are sincere; makes rejection even harder; Uriko's behavior has otherwise been normal. Despite trauma in past, she has overcome it. Alice would have likely noticed suspicious behavior.

But even as he squashed that idea, an even more awful notion entered his mind, one insidiously pleasing for its persuasiveness even as it presented the most horrifying implications.

6. Busuzima modified Uriko's pheromones and my own so we would become irresistibly attracted to each other once capable of reproduction and thus ensured the breeding of a strong line of zoanthropes.

Pluses: Would explain my attraction to her. Would explain her attraction to me. We were in Busuzima's custody during the same period in childhood, so it is possible for him to have thought of it.

Minuses: Heaven help me, I will KILL the man if he did that.

Kenji stared at the paper, his stomach roiling. He had only three theories that were somewhat plausible, and one reeked of paranoia (though he still felt most convinced in his gut of this one--but wasn't that the _point_ of paranoia?); the second, that the letter's delivery was a dare, did not tell him anything about the letter's contents; and the third one was, should he take the letter at face value...

His friend Uriko had a crush on him. And that just didn't--simply did not, under any circumstances--make sense.

It wasn't that he didn't believe a girl could have a crush on him. After all, he'd received four love notes previous to this, forcing him to turn each girl down as gently as possible. He'd botched it the first time, sadly enough, and the girl had been so crushed she'd cried and she still avoided him to this very day. The second girl had taken it better, and so had the third, despite some dejection, but by that point Kenji had been a little upset at how popular he was. Why were so many girls attracted to him, the last guy they should ever want in a relationship? Sure, he dedicated himself to being polite, helpful, and dependable--but he was boring. He made a point of avoiding unnecessary excitement at school because he got enough of it from living with Yugo and working in the W.O.C. So why did so many girls seem to be interested in him?

He'd learned long ago that the best way to learn about another culture was to study its literature, the reason he was an avid reader; and so, with this wisdom, he had entered the shoujo section of the manga store, anxious to learn what views teenage girls held concerning romance.

What he learned had horrified him. Not just for the conspicuous deus ex machinas--these writers seemed to be convinced that two people could go through the nine cantos of hell and emerge unscarred, if only with a gentle nudge of "destiny" or "true love" or that kind of tripe--but, as he was reading the seventh volume and determinedly ignoring the two girls giggling at him and his stack of shoujo manga, he realized that he perfectly fit one of the character types: that of a shy and retiring, handsome (despite being a mole zoanthrope, Kenji was not blind) but not too overly masculine boy who seemed to be a model citizen. The key word being 'seemed', for, as the heroine (often outwardly cheerful and quite perceptive) grew closer to him, another side of the boy was revealed: one darker, more flawed, more human.

And that was terrifying for Kenji. Because--all right, he could see why this sort of thing would appeal to girls: just about anyone would feel a thrill of power at being the only one to know another person's fears and nightmares, to be the keeper of their secrets. To be the one who "fixed" them. And despite the shocking revelations of dark secrets, things always turned out all right in the end. After all, it wasn't like any of these boys were serial killers.

That was exactly the problem: Kenji was a serial killer. Yes, he had committed himself to doing all he could to atone for his crimes, but that did not magically wash the blood from his hands. The thought of anyone poking and prying at his past was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He had turned each girl down because of his past, the constant companion in his life, because he knew he could never be completely honest with them without earning their hatred. And the thought of anyone "fixing" him--that presumed there was something that could be repaired in the first place.

When the fourth letter came, he turned the girl down with an easy conscience, knowing that he was not at all what she was searching for. Perhaps he seemed to be; Kenji had always been adept at maintaining appearances, vainly hoping that the characteristics on his surface would pass through and into his being, like light passing through an eggshell. But the similarities between his life and a shoujo manga ended after the first glance.

And now a fifth letter. He'd seen the pink stationery in his locker and sighed as he flicked the note open and caught the words "caring", "love", "heart", and his eyes flicked down to the signature to find out which girl's ire he might earn today.

His eyes had widened at the scrawled "Uriko". He'd looked up and around, as though expecting an attack, and sure enough, there she was, waving hello and then hesitating when she caught sight of the note. On the spot he'd improvised a pantomime of "oh, darn, I forgot something" with the best apologetic smile he could muster, closed his locker, and fled for his life.

But he knows this only delayed the inevitable. Though he knows there is something, a stirring of affection unsuited for friendship, he cannot admit that to Uriko. Because he loves her, he cannot say it aloud. If they drew too close, he would overburden her with his sins. He has to reject his best friend. And even though it really doesn't make a difference at this point, he can't help but wonder: what made her decide to change their relationship? She isn't like the other girls. She knows very well what he is. He had even attacked her as Bakuryu, making it completely impossible for her to forget his crimes. So why choose him?

Kenji barely focuses on the history lesson; notes on the rapid modernization of the Meiji era are interspersed with jottings of polite refusals, ways to soften the rejection, even a half-baked scheme to set Uriko up with another boy (crossed out after Kenji hesitates to write down the name of an actual classmate who would be good for the cheerful optimist). It is a long class period, and an even longer walk to the cafeteria for lunch after Kenji realizes that he has no plausible excuses for skipping; his lack of club activities is the one major flaw in his "model student" appearance. When they meet each other just outside of the meal line, he smiles at Uriko easily--or at least his lips turn up swiftly--and prays she will laugh at him for taking the note seriously. "Let's get out of here," she tells him instead.

They both leave the cafeteria, lunches in hand, and wander through the hallways. They chat and smile and laugh until finally she leads him into an empty stairwell and says,

"You don't have to be so nervous. I just want to know if you feel the same."

Which is why Kenji 'just' wishes Kohryu would break into his school to try killing him again, because at least it would provide ample distraction. But instead he swallows down the last of his milk and sighs, wondering what betrayed his agitation. "It's got nothing to do with you," he says, forcing himself to use a colloquial tone--he knows he often speaks in a distant, formal voice when upset, and that is the worst way he could talk to Uriko right now. "I really do like you," and those words are all he is willing to say on the dangerous subject of affection. "But I'm just not...suited...for that kind of relationship." With any other girl, he would say 'at the moment', and give her the excuse of being too busy with studying and extracurricular activities; it is an easy stock excuse. But even if Uriko hates him for rejecting her, they will likely always be a part of each other's lives, because of the WOC and the closeness of their adopted siblings. He needs to tell her the truth.

Uriko looks at him, her eyebrow rising. "'Not suited'? Woah...sorry," she murmurs, her eyes widening, "I, uh...I knocked on the 'closet' a little hard, didn't I?"

The unexpected mention of closets creates a moment of silent confusion as he deciphers her meaning. "I'm not gay, Uriko."

She blinks a few times before tilting her head at him questioningly. "Then what's wrong? I mean, if you like girls and all..."

He wonders why she hasn't realized what is wrong yet, and then asks himself once more why someone like Uriko would want someone like him. She is cute and charming enough to pursue any boy she wants...why set her sights so low? He looks around, checking for other students, then leans in and asks her, "you remember what happened when we were fourteen?"

She understands his meaning right in that instant: he sees the confusion cleared away by her comprehension, and the brief burst of sadness that mars her expression before she smiles again. This time her grin is a little softer, a little more hesitant. "So it's about that...I get it now."

Kenji nods. "I am sorry, Uriko. But I just don't think it would work out. Can we...can we still be friends?"

That turns Uriko's smile back to full wattage as she clasps his hands in hers, their arms linking them like a bridge. "Of course, silly. I wouldn't give that up for anything. But...I have a little favor to ask," she says, pulling in close to him.

"Of course," he says, mirroring her smile with his relief.

"I call dibs, all right? So when you are ready, I'm first in line." Her cheeks are a little pink, and the blush only spreads as she pulls away from him, nearly skipping up each stair step in her giddiness. "See ya later, Kenji!" she calls, disappearing around the turn of the staircase.

Kenji waves hesitantly, a little puzzled and sure they've just had a major miscommunication somewhere, somehow. The bell rings and he weaves through a growing crowd of students to his next class.

A good portion of language studies is spent replaying the conversation and transcribing it from memory--and Kenji nearly smacks his head in the middle of class when he finds that there was indeed a misunderstanding. Though he meant that he is not suited for dating by his very nature, though he took care to not term it a momentary state, it seems Uriko still interpreted him as meaning that it is temporary. And by calling 'dibs', Uriko claimed Kenji's first date--or, at least, that is the only way he knows to understand her statement. Which could be problematic, as he never intends to date anyone and risk pulling them into a relationship.

Rather than smacking his head, Kenji settles for making a note on his paper, above his notes (which describe more thoroughly the speech patterns of a modern teenager from Tokyo than they do the grammar of classical Japanese): 'call Uriko after school. BE CLEAR.'

Still, he thinks, she persisted despite his discouragement--there must be something she finds really attractive about him, something that compensates for the darkness of his past.

He wishes he could figure out what it is.


	2. The Distance of a Telephone Line

When Kenji reaches his home, he feels truly confident about his course of action. A simple phone call will resolve everything neatly. Usually he detests using phones, as the other speaker isn't visible, making the interpretation of nuances of their speech more difficult. But he feels it will be safer for both him and Uriko to explain that he could never start a romantic relationship over the distance of a telephone line; any emotional blows that might be dealt will be cushioned by their isolation. However, he is hoping to prevent any hurt feelings, so he scripts the ideal conversation during his train ride home and then dissects each line, looking hard for potential misunderstandings and complications. Now confident he has planned for every possible outcome of the conversation, he pulls open the door of the condominium and steps inside, only to have his blood freeze at Yugo's cheerful voice saying, "Hey, Uriko!"

_She's here?_ Kenji runs through his options (take the opportunity to tell Uriko face-to-face, avoid the subject, duck and run) but soon realizes it's a false alarm when Yugo continues, "Yeah, get Alice on the phone, will you?" Kenji takes a few more steps into the foyer and spots his adoptive brother in the living room, comfortably sprawled out on the leather couch. Yugo waves a jaunty greeting before being distracted by a voice from the phone, currently in his hand. "Hello," he replies into the mouthpiece. He grins wolfishly, his voice a trifle deeper as he asks, "What's happening, beautiful?"

The teenager rolls his eyes at Yugo's somewhat foolish-looking behavior. Though Kenji knows very well his brother loves Alice, the superfluous endearment grates his nerves...or perhaps it is just his anxiety about speaking to Uriko rising to the surface. He shakes his head, pushing it back down in his mind, and quickly heads to his bedroom. Homework becomes a distraction as he waits for Yugo to finish with the phone; calculus certainly poses enough challenge to occupy the student. After reviewing the current lesson and completing three problems, he glances at his alarm clock. Ten minutes have passed. Perhaps the lovers' chitchat is done, and certainly, when Kenji pokes his head out of his room, he does not hear anything. But when he looks in the living room, Yugo is still on the phone, now resting on his shoulder. Kenji failed to pick up on the older man's voice because it has dropped significantly, and with the chuckle in his voice, it almost sounds as though he is sharing secrets with his long-time girlfriend.

The open display of intimacy (uncanny, the illusion that Alice is right there, curled up next to her love and whispering honeyed words in his ear) pierces Kenji with a twinge of envy and he quietly retreats to his room. The bitter feeling is, unfortunately, one he is all too accustomed to, living with Yugo--Kenji knows the brash boxer has some flaws, but they are insignificant compared to the man's kindness and confidence, the drive he shows in pursuing his goals, the aura of invincibility he exudes. Kenji idolized his caretaker for these qualities when he was younger, but after his brief life as Bakuryu, the admiration became tainted by more resentful sentiments. Before he had hopes to one day match his brother's greatness; now he knows just how deep his flaws ran and how naive his aspirations had been, like a mortal wishing to be a god, or a puppet desiring to be as real as its maker...

Kenji tries to stop the dark thoughts, replacing them with complex equations and multiple variables, but his mind persists flashing back to Yugo's candidness and comfort when speaking with Alice, and he can't deny it: he is envious of their relationship. As Bakuryu, he had dismissed Uriko as an amateur beneath his notice, but she still befriended him afterwards. As their friendship deepened, he found his interest in Yugo and Alice's courtship deepened, until he was forced to admit that he wants the same for Uriko and himself.

And now it is tantalizingly within reach: all he has to do is say "I love you, too", and his friend will be overjoyed...at least until she realizes what a terrible decision she has made in choosing him as her love. No. He will not take advantage of Uriko. Except his desires run counter to this resolution, arguing that she wants it, too, and he will only be giving her what she wanted, making her happy, and isn't that certainly a noble cause? If she is blind to his faults, that was her own issue; he certainly made them obvious enough.

Disgusted with himself, Kenji pushes away from his desk, his homework still woefully incomplete, and stalks into the living room. The phone discussion has changed to the W.O.C., and it is clear that Yugo is not altogether pleased with this as he tells Alice what Gado could shove up a certain orifice. Kenji can hear Alice's voice rising in pitch on the other end, likely scolding her boyfriend for his short temper. The man sighs before glancing up at his younger brother and mouthing 'what?'

"I need to use the phone," Kenji states. He can go to his own room for privacy, but he knows he has to call Uriko, now, while the planned conversation is still in his head and he held onto his resolution to do what was right for her.

Yugo quirks an eyebrow, but the teenager remains in place, waiting, until Yugo says into the phone, "Listen, I gotta go now. Kenji wants the phone." He smiles unexpectedly. "Love you too, babe. I'll pick you up after your shift and we'll go out somewhere, okay? See you then." He punches a button, ending the call, and then looks up at Kenji. "So what's this about? You hate talking on the phone."

Sometimes, Kenji thinks, Yugo knows him too well. "I'm just calling a schoolmate."

"So it can't wait till tomorrow," Yugo deduces. He holds the device close, absentmindedly tapping it against his chest. "Or," and now a smirk curves his lips as he speaks, "it's too embarrassing to talk about face-to-face."

Kenji has planned for every eventuality of his conversation with Uriko, but he did not plan on being stymied by his older brother's teasing. "Please give me the phone," he says, and knows that was the wrong response when Yugo's eyebrows fly up.

"So it's door number two, then. Hmm...is it a girl?"

"No," Kenji says immediately, but his cheeks feel red and Yugo laughs. Damn it, why is his baiting always so effective?

"Well," Yugo says, rolling off the couch. "You're calling a girl because it's less embarrassing than asking her in person...making a date with someone special?" he guesses, holding the phone out.

Kenji reaches out for the phone, answering curtly, "Calling it off."

And the phone is yanked out of reach. The ninja wonders with some exasperation if it wouldn't be easier to use his superior speed to grab it, but instead he reigns in his impatience and meets Yugo's disbelieving gaze. "Wait a second," Yugo says. "You not only got a date, but now you're trying to cancel it?"

"It was a misunderstanding. She asked and I turned her down, but she misinterpreted--"

"So you weren't clear."

"I...I suppose I could have been clearer," Kenji admits.

"Is she a troll?"

"What--no!"

"And she's not some kind of harpy?" Yugo presses, frowning at the teenager.

Kenji hesitates to answer, unsure where this is leading. "No, she isn't. She's quite nice."

"So why not just go on the date? I mean, you got this girl's hopes worked up and all, and now you're going to break her heart?"

Ah. That's where he's going. It's a tantalizing question: why not? Except Kenji already knows the answer. "It's not like that," he says, and then isn't sure what to say, because Yugo will probably overreact if he realizes Alice's sister is the one whose heart he is going to crush (but it will be a softer blow now than if it came later on).

Yugo waits, patiently, for an explanation; when none is forthcoming, he groans. "Look, whatever you're thinking, I can guarantee you're making it too complicated. A nice girl works up the nerve to ask you out. That takes guts. You can't just give her a chance? It's one date, not marriage. And besides, you could probably use a date, have some fun."

It is only one date, but one date can be enough to change a relationship. Then again, it would take care of his promise to Uriko: just one date, and then afterwards he could explain that he still didn't feel any romantic relationship was right for him, and Uriko would be satisfied. The explanation might not even be necessary. One date might be all it takes for her to lose interest in him; perhaps it is only the novelty that intrigues her.

Yet even though it would make a happy solution to this entire situation, Kenji finds himself depressed by that possibility.

Yugo sighs and finally hands over the phone. "Okay, okay. Go on and make the poor girl cry. It's none of my business."

Kenji scowls at the blatant attempt to manipulate his emotions, but says nothing, instead walking back to his room with the phone firmly in his grip. As soon as the door closes, he dials the Nonomura residence, his thumb stabbing each button in its haste--but he hesitates to press 'send' and actually initiate the call. Yugo does have a valid point: it's only one date. It is not a commitment to anything further--and he did commit to the date by promising Uriko a favor; if he broke his word, it might hurt not only Uriko, but their friendship.

_You're being selfish again_, he scolds himself, and forces himself to think only of her, what consequences this may have for her, and presses 'send'.

The phone rings twice before someone picks it up. "Yugo," Uriko's voice says with mock exasperation, "she's busy getting ready for her shift now. You're just going to have to hold on and wait a few hours, perv."

The boy finds himself glancing heavenward, wondering just how his brother earned that nickname. "This is Kenji."

There is a squeak and a loud clatter as Uriko drops the phone; her mother's voice is strong and clear as she asks what the girl is doing. "Nothing!" Kenji hears her call back, and then she blurts into the mouthpiece, "I thought you were Yugo!"

"So I gathered," Kenji says dryly.

"Sorry," she murmurs, and though he can't see her face, he knows at the very least she is blushing with embarrassment. "Um...anyways...what's up?"

There is complete silence when Kenji fails to answer. There was a script, and it is still there in his head, somewhere buried beneath Yugo's teasing and Uriko's blush and thoughts of curling up with her, safe and warm, able to say anything without fear of rejection, and that childish voice clamoring _I want I want I want_. "Mmm, not much," he answers and rakes his hair through his fingers, as though that would sort out the bedlam of his thoughts. "I was just reviewing what we talked about during lunch, and I wanted to tell you..."

And though he's forgotten the script, he can guess what it calls for at this juncture: "I think there was a misunderstanding."

But that's not what he wants to say.

"Kenji?" He hears her climbing up the stairs, possibly to her own room.

_I want the distance of a telephone line to be nothing between you and me. I want to feel close to you, no matter how far away. I want to be yours, I want you to really love me--_

Selfish.

_It's just one date._

"I want to try," he murmurs. Selfish, and he knows it, but now that he's uttered the words he can't take them back and the only way to go is forward. "Maybe I just need to take a chance. So if you have no other obligations--if you still want to," and part of him wants her to say no, now, and end this foolishness, "would you like to go out with me Friday night?"

She does not say 'no'. She doesn't say 'yes', either. Instead, she asks, "Are you sure? I mean, earlier...I don't want you to feel like you have to, just because I..."

He grimaces as he sits down, his fist bunching up the denim of his jeans--because she is thinking of him, when he should have thought of her. "No, it's nothing like that," he reassures her. "It's just been on my mind, and after thinking things over, maybe I've been too hasty in eliminating possibilities."

She lets out a little breath of relief. "Yeah, you're right...it never hurts to try something new. Friday night is perfect for me. See you then?"

"Yes," Kenji says, and squashes the small voice that breathes _I love you_. "See you then."

"Bye!" she chirps before hanging up; the dial tone that follows underscores the refrain of_ selfish, selfish, selfish_ running through his head.


End file.
